Nevermind
by MariLyn's Mello
Summary: He was a fool to tell Dan. A Nathan Barkey story. Dan/Jones. May be scrapped. Rated m for swearing. Thanks all!
1. Chapter 1

**Don't know if I will post this, I don't think it's very good so tell me to scrap or continue because I never post Barley stuff and yer…**

**I don't own Nathan Barley or the song (Hole in the earth by Deftones if your interested) or the Mighty Boosh.**

**Dedicated to my new friends Scarlz, Raccoon man, Lauren and Lee lee (AND THE FABULOUS READERS)**

**Ps (I made up the apartment number)**

The music blared out of the speakers from the apartment and into the dirty street, the neighbors hardly noticing it as it was part of their normal day. Heavy electro blasted from the window of number 5B, the floor covered in wires, broken head phones and pizza boxes.

At the source of the noise, was Jones.

He was smiling like a happy child as the sound he was looking for entered his ears with an exotic screech and hiss that would've sounded as racket to a modern day person.

But not to Jones.

He cheered, wanting to celebrate with someone, anyone, but being completely alone in the messy flat. He sighed and switched the music off with a click, collapsing onto the sofa and resting his head on its arm.

He hated being alone.

That's why he lived with two people; but it didn't do much good. Dan was always sulking about and being depressed and Clair was always with Nathan bloody Barley. Jones didn't know why he felt so down, he'd just discovered the sound that he had been looking for weeks now, and he felt like he had an emotional hangover. Jones ruffled his longish black hair, looking at the door like a dog waiting for its owner.

"Fuck" He muttered to himself. What was he waiting for anyway? Dan? The man who would be too depressed to care let alone give a fuck? Clair? The women who would kill him if she heard another beat of where's the ice-cream? Jones ripped the head phones off his head and threw them across the room, disappearing into a sea of equipment that had been rejected or broken by Jones. Why did he even bother? The music, the equipment that he spent most of his money on?

Why the fuck did he bother?

He looked up at the painting he'd painted, the bright colours only giving half of the room that sparkle he'd wanted. He didn't know why he'd painted a picture of himself; he had secretly wanted to paint it of Dan.

He had such a nice face when he wasn't frowning.

Stupid old git.

Lush shoulder length brown hair that curled nicely.

Beautiful chocolate eyes that always seemed to have dark purple rings around them

Well built body.

Soft skin.

Jones stopped himself from his list.

Did he _fancy_ Dan, because it definitely seemed like he did.

No.

Maybe.

Yes.

And it hurt him to see Dan sulk about and not take any notice of Jones.

Maybe he should tell him.

No.

Yes

Do it.

Before he could stop himself, Jones had ran to the table, grabbing a old pizza box and a pen.

He went to write, but then realized his writing looked as if a child had scribbled a symbolic message.

He should tell Dan.

Face to face.

No.

Yes.

He jumped back onto the couch happily, happy to tell Dan as soon as he walked through the door.

But what if it goes wrong.

What if he hates me it?

He pushed the thought out of his head, fiddling with the white beads on his necklace. Before he knew it, he'd forgotten about the horrible consequences and was thinking about his new sound that had been galloping around his head and had left him with three days of non stop djing.

That was the good thing about being Jones.

He never really remembered anything.

Jones sat there, staring at the cream ceiling as if waiting for it to transform. He picked up the remote that was wedged between the couch for the CD player and pressed play, Deftones immediately filling the room.

Jones looked up curiously.

This wasn't his usual heavy electro. He was about to press stop when he decided not to.

It was… nice.

He pressed the repeat button dozens of times before throwing the remote away to join the headphones in the sea of mess.

_Can you explain to me how.  
You're so evil, how?  
It's too late for me now  
There's a hole in the Earth, I'm out.  
There's a hole in the Earth, I'm out._

Jones felt himself falling asleep, falling deeper and deeper into his dreams.

And before he knew it, he was asleep.

Dan came home in his usual sour mood, Nathan's annoying voice rattling around his head. He heard a song playing in the flat, quite soothing, not Jones usual heavy electro. He pushed his key in the lock and opened the door, the song echoing around the flat peacefully. Dan's eyes lay on Jones slender body, his chest moving up and down to his slow breathing. He wondered how Jones could sleep through music with the volume turned up max.

But that's Jones.

Jones.

He never really took any notice of Jones.

Jones was just… another person.

He couldn't be.

Dan felt like Jones was something to him.

Not nothing.

Not a major part of him.

But something.

Dan listened to the lyrics of the music, trying to recognize the song.

_Can you explain to me now?  
If you're still able, well  
It's time I think you know the truth  
There's a hole in the Earth, I'm out  
I hate all my friends  
They all lack taste some times  
There's a hole in the Earth, I'm out_

Is that what I'm like? Dan thought.

Dan didn't give a fuck for the people at Sugarape.

But Jones?

Dan walked over to Jones, taking in his features.

Spiky black mullet.

Bubbly blue eyes that were hidden under blue eyelids and a hint of mascara.

Pale milky skin that glowed in the light.

He smelt of a mix of vodka and sweets.

He snored lightly, his mouth open in silent words. Dan sat on the sofa and lay down next to him, wondering why he was looking at his friend with such loving eyes.

He felt nothing lying next to Jones.

No anger.

No regret.

Nothing.

For once, he was peaceful.

Dan flicked the light switch off and put them both into darkness them both into darkness and lay down back next to Jones.

Little Jones.

Dan always felt he needed to be angry towards Jones.

He stared at the cream coloured ceiling, reminding himself to paint it when he had the time.

But since when did Dan have spare time?

Dan traced his fingers over Jones face, his skin feeling like white marble. Even though they were in darkness, Dan could still see Jones face in complete harmony.

"Hey Ashcroft" Dan let out a small yelp of surprise, pulling his hands back quickly, hoping Jones hadn't been awake all that time.

"What the fuck Jones?" Dan shouted angrily. "You almost gave me a fucking heart attack!"

There I went. Dan thought.

Angry at him again for no reason.

"So, how are things?" Jones asked eyes bright and alive.

"Oh you know, Nathan Barley shit. And that horrible magazine they call Sugarape" Dan muttered. Jones laughed.

Dan thought Jones had a nice laugh.

"No shit" Jones said. The room filled with awkward silence, a musty stench filling the air.

".." Jones repeated over and over.

Jones felt like a kid compared to Dan, like Dan would strike at him if he was naughty.

And he did.

Sometimes.

When he noticed him.

"Hey! Quit it! I need some sleep, and I ain't going into my room because Clair's sleeping in there and who knows where she's been with Barley!" Dan shouted. Jones stopped, thinking about what Dan had said, only starting again seconds later, louder and twice as annoying as before. Dan threw his arm at what he assumed was Jones face, but hit the arm of the sofa sending waves of pain up his arm.

"Fucker!" He screamed at the top of his lungs and grasping his wounded hand, sending Jones laughing like crazy.

"You're a bloody tool" Jones said after he'd stopped laughing. The song was still playing like background music.

"How long has this song been on?" Dan asked.

"Told it to repeat 50 times" Jones said. "Can you see anything?" Jones asked.

"No, why"

"Just wondering" Jones said, putting them into silence again.

"Dan?"

"Yes?"

"I'm bored"

"Not shit"

"Dan?"

"Yes?"

"Do you love me?" Dan sat up, trying to see the expression on Jones face. Was this a joke? Or was he serious?

"What the fuck did you just say?" Dan asked, trying not to show his shock in his voice by trying to replace it with anger.

Why was he angry?

Dan knew his angry tone wasn't needed, but he couldn't help it.

"I said, do you love me?" Jones said with more confidence. Dan was gob smacked, thanking that they were in the dark so Jones couldn't see his jaw open. Dan tried to say something, but nothing came out, nothing that he cold say could get him out of this one.

Jones realised how wrong he'd been about this idea.

Of course Dan didn't love him!

And he was a fucking idiot to think that he did or ever would!

"I know, I know. 'What drugs are you on Jones, you bastard? Course I don't fucking love you!'" Jones impersonated Dan. Dan felt bad, he could feel Jones sadness cutting through the air as the awkward silence into a guilty one.

"Jones" He started. "I didn't-"

"It doesn't matter! Just fuck off Ashcroft!" He shouted angrily, rolling over so he faced the wall, back to Dan.

"You're a heartless fucking bastard, you know that?" Jones said fiercely with fire in his tone.

Dan kept quiet.

"You don't care about anyone but yourself! You're always complaining and whining! If you hate your job so fucking much, why don't you quit! I am sick of it! I'm sick of this! I'm sick of _you!_" Jones screamed. Dan was shocked; he never thought Jones could be so… truthful. Dan always thought he was just a child, always needed someone to speak for him.

Someone to help him stand on his own two feet.

Now he could see how wrong he was.

Jones stumbled off the couch and started walking in a weird way like he didn't know which way he was going to walk, Dan behind him.

Jones ran in the kitchen, tripping on a lead and falling face first on the dirty white tiles. He could feel pain ripping through his jaw like he'd just been punched in the face, his teeth biting down on his tongue. He tried to get up, blood dripping from his mouth and falling to the floor silently. Dan went to his side, trying to help Jones up, Jones jumping away from him as if he'd just send an electric shock through him.

"I **don't** need you Dan!" Jones screamed, blood dripping over his top lip.

_There's a hole in the earth._

_There's a hole in the earth._

I don't need him, Jones thought.

But knew he was wrong.

He ran to the sink and splashed water onto his face. Jones could feel tears run down his face with the water.

Tears of pain from his busted lip.

Pain from Dan.

Pain from seeing how blind he really was.

Dan remained where he was, not wanting to look at Jones pretty face that had turned to anger.

Anger that was directed at Dan.

But even in anger, Dan still thought his face was pretty.

Jones let his head fall into the sink, the tips of his back hair brushing against the now red water that filled the sink. He shut his eyes, the blood red replaced by silent black.

Wait? silent?

Jones looked up to see Dan gone, the music stopped, nothing to show he'd ever been here. He felt his heart crack, small pieces falling out of place.

He really didn't care.

**Please tell me.**

**Scrap or keep.**

**Reviews are like Jones with a chipmunk voice *Squeals highly* (And Julian with long hair *Drools all over keyboard*)**

**Thanks for reading!**


	2. Baby, we'll dance with the stars

**My computers broken so I get the spare moment to finish this on the library computer. **

**Bummer.**

**This whole chapter is in Dan's P.O.V and I just read my first chapter and it was a load of bollocks.**

**I wrote that???**

**I do not own Nathan Barley.**

**Dedicated to every person who reads this even if you just read this and think Stuff it and walk off, I hope something good happens to you or this story makes you happy (Which it won't cause its angst cause I'm evil XD) cause you deserve it!**

_**Dan…**_

_**You broke my heart. I hope I hurt you.**_

_**It'll show you have a fucking heart.**_

_**I know I have one.**_

_**Please love me.**_

_**Jones…**_

I had my hands shoved in my pockets as far as they would go, I walked with long strides.

What I was doing was wrong, I knew that, but what else was I supposed to do? I may feel something for Jones, but it's not love.

No fucking way.

Idiots surrounded me left right and centre but I was too preoccupied to think about anything else but those blue eyes that had screamed hatred at me.

It wasn't hate, was it?

Jones had never hated anyone, had he?

How could I trust this music junkie, how did I know his name was really Jones.

Jones.

Jones?

What kind of name is Jones?

Its too cool to be a real name, I bet he made it up.

Jones wasn't real, I wouldn't surprised if I woke up one morning to find it all a big dream and Jones being a character on stained paper.

The numbing of my body finally disappeared and I felt the pain in my heart that told me I was a bastard.

I already knew that, a long time ago.

I had to go back, say sorry.

Say something.

**#####**

I opened the door to an empty house, my call of Jones name hanging in the air like an aroma. I walked to the kitchen, stopping as I felt water dance beneath my feet. I looked down, the place was flooded! Jones DJ equipment was ruined, hundreds of dollars used and wasted. The water was coming from the bathroom and wasn't stopping, I opened the door to a sight that made everything stop.

He was in the bath. Shower on full blast. Blood stained knife swimming in a puddle next to an arm covered in deep slashes. Note nailed to toilet seat with thumb tack. His clothes were thrown everywhere, floating like pink leopard water lilies.

Suicide.

I thought I would be the only one…

The water droplets fell down his face and dripped down his crooked nose, stopping at the part of his lips. His hair was soaked, sticking to his forehead and lying flat just above his shoulders. His naked body was a deadly pale except for cheeks which blushed a rosy red. The water covered him like a red blanket, hiding everything that was in the water. Stream hung in the air like fog, making beads of sweat form on my forehead.

I asked myself one question.

Was he dead?

His eyes that usually shined heavenly blue were veiled by his eyelids that were coloured black and his wrist was slashed in more than one place.

But he was smiling…

I walked through the water and towards my friend, water soaking my shoes and socks.

I reached into the bath to pull out the plug but screamed and jumped back, holding my hand that had started to turn red.

The water was boiling.

And Jones was in it.

He was dying.

Right now.

I took a deep breath and reached into the bath, biting the insides of my mouth from the temperature. I could taste crimson blood on my tongue. I slung my arm under Jones exposed thigh, my other arm grabbing his shoulder. I pulled him out from the red water, scarlet dripping from his tiny frame. I could see blisters and burns all over. I carried him into the lounge and placed him on the sofa, slapping his face gently but desperately.

"Jones! Jones! Talk to me! Please!" I shrieked, shaking him.

What do you do when someone's unconscious?

Warmth!

I ran into my bedroom, almost slipping on the flood of water and ripping my duvet off my mattress. Articles and reports went flying, but I didn't care.

Sugarape can go die.

I quit!

I quit for Jones!

I threw the duvet over Jones, tucking loose ends under him like a parent would with their child.

But Jones isn't my child.

He's my…

My…

My love.

I love him.

I love Jones.

But its too late.

I put my head to his chest, listening.

Waiting.

I can wait.

I'll always wait for Jones.

And I heard…

_**Jones loved stars. He'd point to them and pretend it's a giant dot to dot, he always made some weird shit like a egg or a stick. He wanted to paint stars on the roof, but Claire despised of it. Stupid sister, didn't know what she was missing out on. But Jones never stopped loving the stars, cause he knew that no matter what.**_

_**The stars would always be there… **_

**Cliffhanger and brabble, ain't I wonderful to you?**

**Tell me if I should continue and what I could improve, I'm up for improvement.**

**Loves.**


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